A Lady by Midnight (Spindle Cove #3)(44)

She choose a simple piece—one of those easy duets that all novice pianists learn with their tutors. Kate had played the lower part of it countless times with her students. Today, she took the upper part, and Lord Drewe quickly entered with the bass.

He was good. Very good. Within a few measures, she could discern his skill. He had long, deft fingers and a reach that she envied. But his talent went deeper than mere skill—he possessed a natural musicality that even a gifted teacher could not impart. Seldom did she have a pupil who could match her for training, but occasionally one came close.

This was the first time in years she’d felt herself truly bested.

But it was marvelous. As they played, she felt him making her better. She soon left the proscribed boundaries of the exercise, taking the melody down different paths. He followed her lead, occasionally made his own suggestions with a new, surprising chord. It would have been difficult to explain to anyone who didn’t play—but the duet was a conversation. They responded to one another, adjusting tempo and dynamics. They finished one another’s phrases. They even told each other jokes.

His technique was flawless; his style, restrained. But she sensed true passion beneath it all.

When they ended the duet with a playful flourish and one final, muted secret of a chord, they looked to each other.

“Well, then,” he said. “That seals it. You must be part of the family.”

Her heart missed a beat. “What are you saying? Did you have some news, some result from the inquiries . . . ?”

He shook his head. “Not yet. But there’s so much indirect evidence. We’ve spent the whole week with you, and we’re all agreed. You simply fit in, Kate. This”—he indicated the pianoforte—“is just one more reason. In my mind, the investigation is concluded. Don’t you feel it, too?”

Kate didn’t feel certain of anything—except that she was most certainly going to cry. She tried to hold the tears back, but a few spilled over. She swiped at them with the side of her wrist.

A few moments passed before she could speak. “Lord Drewe, I don’t know how to thank you.”

“To begin with, you must call me Evan now. And no thanks are necessary.”

Kate drew up her legs beneath her dressing gown and angled to face him on the piano bench. If he was truly her cousin, she now had the right to fuss over him. “Why are you up so late, Evan?”

“I might ask you the same thing.” One dark eyebrow arched. “I won’t believe it was only the dog.”

When she stammered a bit in response, he waved off her explanations.

“It’s all right. You needn’t manufacture excuses. We’re all a bit haunted, we Gramercys. Each of us has a passion. My sister Calista—you’ll meet her soon—has always been wild for nature. Harriet lives for drama, and Lark loves a puzzle. Our brother Bennett would tell you his passion is vice, but he once had nobler pursuits.”

“So your passion is music?”

He shook his head. “I enjoy music, and I often take refuge in it. But music is not what makes me . . .”

“Seethe,” she finished.

He smiled. “Precisely.”

“Then what is it? Or whom?” The moment the words left her mouth, she regretted them. “I’m sorry. It’s not my place to ask.”

“No, it is your place. Because you’re part of it now. My passion is the family, Kate. This title I’ve inherited, the responsibilities of managing several estates. Being a good steward of the land. Taking care of those in my protection. Guarding my siblings from themselves.”

He stared into the corner, and Kate took the opportunity to study him. She noted the small creases at the corners of his eyes. Here and there she could glimpse a thread of silver in his dark hair. But these subtle signs of age looked well on him. They harmonized with his worldly demeanor, as though his body were learning to reflect the maturity of the soul inside. He was a fine-looking man by any standard, but she suspected his most handsome years were yet to come.

He pushed a hand through his hair. “Corporal Thorne does not like me.”

She startled at the abrupt change of topic. “Oh, please don’t believe that. If you go by appearances, Corporal Thorne doesn’t like anyone. He’s very . . . reserved.”

“Perhaps. But he resents me in particular, and for good reason. He believes that I should have known of your existence, and that I should have tried harder to find you. I know he’s right.”

“You couldn’t possibly have known. You were only a youth when you inherited.”

“But you were just a girl, living penniless and alone.” He rubbed his temple. “As you might have gathered . . . a violent temper is one of my worst faults. I have no patience for those who cross my family.”

A rather grave understatement, Kate thought, given the five duels. His having walked away unscathed from one or two such confrontations would be impressive enough, but . . .

Five.

Evan sighed heavily. “This is what Corporal Thorne does not appreciate. No one can be angrier with me than I am with myself. You’ve been wronged, Kate, and I have no one to call out. No malfeasance to blame but my own inattention. Someday, I will ask you to forgive me. But not tonight.”

Kate leaned forward, boldly placing her hand on his arm. “There is no need. Please believe me when I tell you I have no room for bitterness or rancor in my heart. It’s too full of joy and gratitude. I’m so happy to have a family at long last.”